by Léon Guillot de Saix (1895 - 1964)
Translation © by Tyson Deaton

La douce paix
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG
C'est la paix, c'est la douce paix,
la paix maternelle et féconde,
Qui sourit sous tous les aspects
De la nature blanche, ou verte, ou blonde!
C'est la paix, c'est la douce paix.

C'est la paix aux mains d'or,
C'est la paix au front rose
Et qui n'admet sur ses autels
Que le sang de la vigne et le sang de la rose,
C'est l'immortelle paix, chère à tous les mortels!

Sans rancoeur, dès qu'on la rappelle
Elle revient, avec son grand geste indulgent,
Toujours aussi jeune, aussi belle,
Et portant l'olivier d'argent.

Elle était exilée au pays de chimère
Là voici reconnue, elle a repris son rang.
Et comme des enfants qui retrouvent leur mère
Nous sommes jetlés dans ses bras en pleurant!

C'est la paix, c'est la douce paix,
la paix maternelle et féconde.
Chantons sous les rameaux épais
Et menons en chantant al ronde
Autour le monde!

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Tyson Deaton) , "The sweet peace", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Tyson Deaton

This text was added to the website: 2005-06-14
Line count: 23
Word count: 150

The sweet peace
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
It is peace, it is the sweet peace,
the maternal and fertile peace,
Which smiles under all the aspects
Of nature -- white, or green, or golden!
It is peace, it's the sweet peace.

It is peace with hands of gold,
It is peace with rosy face
And which permits on its altar
Only the blood of the vine and the blood of the rose,
It is the immortal peace, dear to all mortals!

Without bitterness, once recalled
It returns, with its great lenient gesture,
Always so young, so beautiful,
And carrying the silver olive branch.

It was exiled to the land of fantasy
There it is recognized, it has mended its rank.
And like the children who recover their mother
We are thrown crying into its arms!

It is peace, it is the sweet peace,
The maternal and fertile peace,
We sing under the thick branches
And we lead the singing of the round
Around the world!

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2005 by Tyson Deaton, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2005-06-14
Line count: 23
Word count: 157